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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29478321">merrily, merrily, merrily</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/daienkaixoxentei/pseuds/daienkaixoxentei'>daienkaixoxentei</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Flower Language, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, M/M, Secret Santa, and chaos inevitably ensues, basically i just wanted the nekoma team to play secret santa, basically the whole nekoma team - Freeform, christmas as a plot device, winter and snow and all things fluffy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 22:27:31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,995</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29478321</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/daienkaixoxentei/pseuds/daienkaixoxentei</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Lev suggests they play Secret Santa. What on earth could go wrong with that suggestion? </p><p>Or: </p><p>This cold, bitter winter, Kenma realizes something he should have known all along.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>274</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>merrily, merrily, merrily</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>- a gift to you, my beloved cousin M, who has been my beta reader for all my shitty writing since we were both old enough to read and write. </p><p>also god damn it daienkai, YET another kuroken fic? damn right. head empty, no thoughts, just kuroken fluff and thoughts of snow, christmas and all things warm and cozy. anyway i wrote this while procrastinating for an assignment due in three days. which i now have to do. god damn it. please enjoy this fic in the meantime!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“We’re playing Secret Santa,” announces Lev with flair. He pulls the scarf tighter around his neck and wraps his long fingers around the mug of hot cocoa in his hands. Sitting backward on the chair as he is, the wide, mischievous smile on his face makes him look even less trustworthy than usual.</p><p>“Absolutely not,” refutes Yaku, who unfortunately is all too familiar with Lev’s antics. “I don’t want a dead rat in my locker, thanks.”</p><p>Kenma privately agrees. His fingers are stiff from cold as he mashes the buttons on his handheld game. The two wooly jumpers he’d haphazardly thrown over his body before leaving the house does little to shield him from the perpetually inescapable chill in the atmosphere. His breath fogs when he exhales out an exasperated sigh.</p><p>The Nekoma team—or at least, half of it—sits perched around a tiny table on the balcony of a coffee shop on the outskirts of Tokyo. The midday sun reflects off the ice, giving the impression that everything is shimmering like a thousand faraway stars.</p><p>Kuroo squints up at the wintry sky balefully. “Can one of you idiots remind me why we’re sitting outside again? The sun’s getting in my eyes, and it’s <em>freezing.</em>”</p><p>“You’re not enjoying yourself, captain?” Lev bats his eyelashes at him, completely unbothered. “Us southerners down in the tropics of Tokyo are getting a white Christmas for once, aren’t we?”</p><p>“I thought you’ve never been to Russia?” Yaku rolls his eyes.</p><p>“And anyway, it snowed two years ago,” points out an iffy Kenma quietly. Damn frozen fingers won’t let him focus on the game.</p><p>“Yeah,” acquiesces Kuroo. “And snow is overrated.”</p><p>Kenma pretends not to see the side-eye he gives him. He sniffs deeply, red nose dripping with snot. What a coincidence that Kuroo’s dislike for the wintry weather amplifies on the day Kenma happens to catch a cold.</p><p>“Summer’s not much better.” Kenma counters just to be spiteful. “Sweat…”</p><p>“Not to mention the torrential rain,” tacks on Inuoka, before blithely adding. “Why don’t people like spring? It’s bright and warm and full of cherry blossoms and… what?”</p><p>He trails off upon being met with incredulous looks from all his companions.</p><p>“You’re not qualified to give an opinion on spring,” bites an irritable Yaku. “<em>You </em>don’t get allergies. Spring is the worst.”</p><p>Even Kenma has to agree.</p><p>“Stop trying to change the subject,” insists a determined Lev. “We’re playing Secret Santa, and that’s final<em>.</em>”</p><p>“Who asked you to decide?” Yaku swats him on the back of the neck at the same time Taketora says: “No, we are definitely not.”</p><p>“Why not?” Says Kuroo suddenly, a most distrustful smile spreading across his face. “I think it’s a good idea. A bonding experience, y’know?” He clears his throat, and begins a chant: “<em>We’re like the blood in our veins…” </em></p><p>Lev takes up the chant enthusiastically, but just about everyone else groans. Kenma actually kicks him in the shin.</p><p>“Shut up, Kuro…”</p><p>His kick mustn’t have done much damage, for Kuroo only widens his grin. The hazel flecks in his eyes glimmer with mischief.</p><p>“What?” He smirks, as Lev drones on in the background. (“<em>We must flow without stopping…!” “You’ll shut up before I snap your overgrown limbs off, you behemoth!”) </em>“Don’t you think it’s a great idea, Kenma?”</p><p>Kenma only scowls in response, then looks back down at his game. “Stop joking around… you’re only encouraging him.”</p><p> “But I’m serious!” Kuroo insists. “We can draw names out of a hat next practice, or something. C’mon,” this he says in response to Yaku’s grimace. “It’ll be fun!”</p><p>Kenma frowns at him. He really does look serious—his eyes are alive with the same kind of light he gets when they’re faced with a challenging opponent on the court, when he’s scrambling and piecing together a thousand pieces of a puzzle simultaneously in his brain in order to find the best way to defeat the enemy.</p><p>Which, in this case, happens to be a gift-giving game of the Christmas-kind.</p><p>Kenma grimaces.</p><p>“Fine.” He allows, but only because Kuroo seems so into it. Maybe it’ll be a good thing. If he strikes lucky and manages to get one of the Santas worth their salt, he could end up getting hold of one of the better games this season.</p><p>“Y’know, if Kenma’s okay with it…” Taketora’s face breaks out in a huge, suspicious grin. Kenma shudders. He sure hopes he doesn’t get Taketora for a Secret Santa. “Heh, we might end up having some fun with this, right?”</p><p>Yaku groans. “Not you, too! And I don’t like the way you said <em>fun</em>. We better have some strict guidelines about not pranking one another during this dummy-fest if we’re actually doing this.”</p><p>But then again, Kenma thinks nervously. It could be even worse.</p><p>Lev fist-pumps the air excitedly. “This is going to be so great!”</p><p>He grimaces. He might end up getting <em>Lev </em>for a Santa, after all.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>Even with the radiators on in full force, the freezing cold air outside the Nekoma gymnasium permeates into the volleyball court. A shimmering flurry of snow flutters down from a sky as white as abalone, icing the ground and the tops of the buildings in soft cakes of slush. Practice for the Spring tournament continues in full force despite the harsh conditions.</p><p>Several ruthless drills, various tiring laps, one merciless practice game and the final relief of the warm-down routine later, the Nekoma volleyball team lies in collapsed exhaustion upon the floor of the gymnasium, each of them in various states of disrepair and sweaty ungodliness.</p><p>Kenma hates the sweat and the ensuing smell of life that penetrates the air but—there’s something nice about it, too. At least they’re all in it together, right? He grimaces. He has to let Kuroo’s dramatic team speeches stop getting to his head. Otherwise one day it might be <em>him </em>repeating that mantra to some unsuspecting first year.</p><p>Kenma shudders. There’s a scary thought.</p><p>“Ahem.” Kuroo clears his throat meaningfully.</p><p>Groaning and complaining, the team rises to a sitting position. Kenma’s face pales when he sees the incriminating top hat in Kuroo’s hands, complete with a pile of paper slips within. He’d kind of been hoping they’d forgotten about that.</p><p>He starts off with that huge, mischievous Cheshire Cat grin of his that stretches from one ear to the other. “We’re going to be playing secret Santa this year.” He explains for the benefit of the team members that hadn’t been present at the god-forsaken coffee shop. “It’s going to be a teamwork building exercise, and I expect everyone to participate in it with good conscience. Today—”</p><p>“That means no dead animals, <em>Lev.</em>” Yaku cuts in scathingly, clearly unhappy about having to participate at all.</p><p>“You know what, Yaku-senpai?” Lev retorts obstinately, pointing an incredulous finger at his upperclassman. “You better hope I don’t pick you, because my dad gave me a lot of money for my birthday this year and if it’s anyone else I’m planning to be real generous—but for you I’ll stick with the daiso store.”</p><p>“We’ll draw names out of a hat today,” Kuroo continues forward, shooting them both a meaningful glare that meant <em>shut the hell up or else</em>. Yaku bites down his retort reluctantly and Lev sits up straight with the terrified eyes of a startled stray. “The Santas will then leave a present by their respective giftee’s locker each Monday and Friday until Christmas Eve two weeks later.”</p><p>Kenma sighs. Great. He is now somehow going to have to come up with four whole ideas for a present. Depending on who he gets, that actually might end up being a real challenge. He frowns. Perhaps he should enlist Shouyo as an ally for this.</p><p>Akaashi could offer some reasonable ideas, too.</p><p>Now that he really thinks about it, there are some real wild cards in there that he has no idea how to deal with. Lev he supposes he could get away with by gifting volleyball equipment, Yaku despite all his protests would be grateful to get some new hiking gear for his summerly mountain trips and even Taketora would probably appreciate something along the lines of cologne and grooming apparatus for his ridiculous hairstyle.</p><p>Kenma eyes Kuroo suspiciously. Somehow it doesn’t feel sincere giving Kuroo something like training gear, because Kenma knows he gets enough of those already from his parents and cousins. Kenma’s already gotten him a nice notebook for his birthday, so school supplies are out of the question, too. Maybe he could get him some combs to battle his ever-constant bedhead, but somehow he doesn’t like that idea. No amount of hair product could battle that mess, anyway. How about a new study lamp? He’d complained about it not working anymore—ah, but that was before he’d said his sleep schedule is much better now that he’s stopped revising late into the night.</p><p>He frowns and ceases that train of thought. No need to get all worked up over it.  </p><p>“Anyway, I was thinking,” Kuroo drones on. “Maybe we should leave the Santa’s identity a secret.”</p><p>After a beat of consideration, the gymnasium explodes in protest.</p><p>“But if I get good gifts I wanna know who gave them to me”—“It’ll be better for the team spirit”—“I have to rub it in Yaku-senpai’s face!”—“Dead rat in my locker!”</p><p>Kenma covers his ears, shaking his head from side to side exasperatedly. Why do the rest of them always have to be so loud.</p><p>Kuroo raises his hands up in surrender, but he’s fighting back a grin. “Geez, I was just trying to keep it traditional. If that’s what you guys want”—</p><p>“It is!” The gymnasium minus Kenma choruses back in response.</p><p>Kuroo scratches the back of his head, the hair sticking up in all directions from his face flowing smoothly under his very long, very nice fingers. Kenma realizes he’s staring and looks away.</p><p>“Alright, alright.” Is it his imagination, or does Kuroo flash him a covert look? “We can do a big reveal on the final day. Deal?”</p><p>This is met with a murmur of assent. Kenma brings his knees up to his chin and sighs unhappily. This whole thing is going to become a lot more stressful if he can’t think up a good idea for a gift and he has to face the disappointment of whoever he gets as a giftee on the final day. He looks down at his shoes glumly. He should probably text Shouyo tonight, then.</p><p>The team lines up to draw the names, and Kenma shuffles in at the back, feeling a weird sense of trepidation. One by one his teammates pick their victims. Judging by the gleeful light in Lev’s eyes after he picks his name, he might have ended up getting Yaku after all. Yaku watches him queasily as he plucks his own slip from the hat.</p><p>By the time it’s Kenma’s turn, there are only two papers left: his and Kuroo’s. Kuroo flashes him a wide grin and shakes the hat around with a silly air of mystery. Kenma rolls his eyes as he walks up to him. Honestly, the only reason he’d agreed to it at all is because Kuroo had been so adamant about it. It’d be a real shame if he ends up getting Kuroo and the poor guy spends the coming weeks getting mediocre present after mediocre present.</p><p>Actually, Kenma thinks with some vindictiveness, he probably deserves that for putting Kenma through this whole thing.</p><p>So thinking, he keeps his eyes spitefully locked with Kuroo’s as he undertakes the ordeal. Kuroo meets his gaze head on, his dark, hazel-flecked eyes enigmatic and unreadable behind the sly smirk he likes putting on for the rest of the team. Kenma’s fingers brush Kuroo’s as he reaches in and clasps a slip of paper within his hands, causing his ears to heat up strangely. Must be a side-effect from the ever-present cold in the atmosphere.</p><p>Kuroo reaches in for the final name as Kenma unfurls his own slip with a bated breath:</p><p>
  <em>Yaku Morisuke</em>
</p><p>Relieved beyond words, he raises his eyes from the paper just in time to see Kuroo stow away his own note in the pocket of his gym shorts. His face is unreadable. He wonders who Kuroo might’ve gotten. Kenma toes the polished floor of the gymnasium curiously. Not that it matters or anything. He’s sure whoever gets him would get a great series of gifts, though.</p><p>Kuroo’s always thoughtful like that.</p><p>After cleaning up, Kenma and Kuroo walk home together under the falling snow. Kuroo looks carelessly tall and handsome in the black overcoat he wears buttoned all the way up with the red scarf he often likes to wear around his neck to shield from the cold, the snow flecked like stars against the night sky in the bird’s nest of an excuse he calls his hair. Kenma feels awkward and inadequate in comparison, bundled up like a ball in the fluffy red jacket he wears over the many layers of sweaters underneath. His nose tickles, and he lets out a small sneeze.</p><p>Kuroo looks over at him as they walk. “You’re cold?”</p><p>“No.” Kenma lies, digging his freezing hands deeper into the comfort of his pockets.</p><p>Kuroo considers him for a moment, and then unfurls the scarf underneath his chin.</p><p>“Here.” He says lightly, wrapping the wool around Kenma’s neck twice, his hands carding through the ends of Kenma’s hair. Kenma flushes, probably due to the ensuing warmth, and nestles his nose deeper into the nice-smelling scarf. It reminds him of Kuroo’s deodorant, and it’s a nice, familiar scent.</p><p>His heart twinges with an unfamiliar ache when Kuroo pats the top of his hair softly.</p><p>“That feels better, right?” Kuroo assures in his confident, lazy drawl and Kenma nods, hiding his resulting smile behind the thick wool.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>Kenma’s parents ran a law firm that specialized in corporate deals with big-name companies from places like Osaka and Nihonbashi. They often had business dinners with their executives and coworkers, and from a young age poor Kenma either holes up in his room or takes refuge at Kuroo’s house to hide from the worst of it. Tonight is one of those nights.</p><p>Socializing. Kenma shudders as he steps down onto the snowy front porch. Suits, wine and stiff old men. Count him out.</p><p>At least one good thing has come out of this whole Secret Santa business, and that’s the fact that he has a valid excuse to escape from his parent’s torturous wine party in lieu of having to go purchase Yaku’s gift for tomorrow. After much conference with Shouyo, Kenma has settled on buying his teammate a variety of mountaineers items from one of the hiking stores downtown.</p><p>He shuffles down the icy pavement toward the train station. When he looks up from his shoes, a familiar figure passes him from the opposite direction.</p><p>“Kuro?” He calls out in surprise.</p><p>Kuroo hadn’t noticed him for some reason, and a flash of panic flickers across his face before he quickly plasters on a fake grin and shoves whatever he’d been holding in his hand behind his back. Kenma eyes him suspiciously.</p><p>“Back from gift shopping?” He asks with some spite.</p><p>“Yeah, just now.” He shifts his weight, and then grins slyly. “Where on earth are <em>you </em>going by yourself? The christmas spirit got to you, too?”</p><p>Kuroo keeps the item behind his back as he reaches out with a free hand to fussily adjust the scarf around Kenma’s neck. Kenma allows him to do so sullenly.</p><p>“Party tonight.” He explains, and Kuroo’s face relaxes in understanding. “I’m going down to the city now.”</p><p><em>If you want to join me. </em>Kenma had almost added thoughtlessly. But of course, that would give himself away and Kuroo would know it’s not Kenma who is <em>his </em>secret Santa. Judging by how hard Kuroo is trying to protect the identity of his giftee, Kenma outing himself would probably ruin the spirit of the game.</p><p>And oh what a tragedy that would be, Kenma thinks exasperatedly.</p><p>“Well, I’ll see you later then.” Kuroo edges sideways away from him with this big, cheeky grin on his face, keeping the gift hidden behind his back. Are you kidding me, Kenma thinks, and continues his trek down to the train station grumpily.</p><p>Is it just him, or is he half-wishing Kuroo had accompanied him?</p><p>It’s probably habit, he tells himself glumly. Kuroo’s always hovering around him, sometimes obsessively so.</p><p>The trip to the hiking store downtown goes smoothly without hindrance. On the train back home, he tucks the freshly purchased hiker’s first aid kit neatly into his lap and pulls out his phone to find that he’s gotten a text from Kuroo.</p><p>
  <em>Yo. Did you get home safe? </em>
</p><p>Honestly, Kuroo is ridiculous with his mother-hen routine sometimes. Always picking on Kenma to eat his vegetables, or do his stretching properly, or fix his sleep cycle. Sometimes it makes him wonder if Kuroo thinks he’s incompetent to take care of himself.</p><p>
  <em>I’m on the way home. </em>
</p><p>He probably is, but that’s neither here nor there.</p><p><em>Alright. </em>Kuroo has texted back. <em>Text me when you get there? </em></p><p>Kenma touches the red scarf around his neck—Kuroo’s scarf—and wonders why his heart flutters when he remembers how his spine had tingled when Kuroo’s fingertips had caressed the bleached ends of his hair and the sensitive skin of his neck.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>Kenma’s first gift is a pair of hi-tech touchscreen gloves along with a small sunflower. He’d been elated by the gloves. Finally, he’d thought. He can play with his phone on the way back home even in the heavy snow without the risk of losing a limb to frostbite. The sunflower had been confusing, because he doesn’t think he’s ever expressed an interest in flowers before. But oh well. The gloves are definitely a real treat.</p><p>Kenma plays an aimless game on his phone using his newfound glove-induced freedom as he walks home with Kuroo after practice on Friday. The sunflower pokes out of the bag that swings against his hip.</p><p>“See, I told you this wasn’t that bad an idea.” Kuroo is saying presently. “Lev was really happy about that new set of kneepads. Even Yaku wasn’t complaining today. He must’ve really liked whatever he’d gotten.”</p><p>Kenma shrugs, thought internally he’s pleased to hear that Yaku enjoyed his gift. And anyway it’s hard to argue when his gift is exactly what he’d wanted.</p><p>“What did you get?” He asks of Kuroo quietly.</p><p>“Oh, mine’s really great.” Kuroo exclaims cheerfully. Kenma knows he doesn’t imagine the fleeting side-eye Kuroo gives him. “An eight thousand-yen gift card for Sports Nihonbashi.” He whoops in elation, pumps his fist into the air and nearly slips onto the ice as a result.</p><p>“Oops.” He chuckles, steadying himself as Kenma sighs. “Anyway, I can’t wait to spend it.”</p><p>Kenma glances at him incredulously. “You got the same thing from your aunt for your birthday.”</p><p>Kuroo laughs. “What can I say? One can never have too many gym shorts.”</p><p>Kenma frowns unhappily. Huh. He guesses he’d been wrong about thinking Kuroo wouldn’t have liked getting training gear as a gift. And he’d been so sure Kuroo has more than enough volleyball apparatus to last a lifetime.</p><p>A hot and prickly feeling that he registers as envy gathers in his gut. Clearly, whoever had gotten Kuroo as a secret Santa was better suited for it than Kenma would’ve been.</p><p>He kicks an icy pebble down the snowy street.</p><p>Whatever. It’s not like it matters.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>Later that night, the falling snow rages into a blizzard and the temperature drops well below freezing. The sun rises into a pearly sky to illuminate streets that have vanished underneath a foot of sparkling white snow. Most employees and all students in the greater Tokyo area are given the day off to rest at home due to the inevitable cancellation of trains and likewise transport.</p><p>Kenma had forgotten to turn the radiator on before he slept, and woke up with a foreseeable cold. He shivers, sneezes, and grumpily reaches out of bed to adjust the heating.</p><p><em>Practice cancelled, </em>is the predictable first message he sees on his phone on the team’s group chat. Right below that is Kuroo’s usual good morning text, followed with some anecdote about a hot soup his mum has made for breakfast. Kenma sneezes. Some soup would be awfully good right about now.</p><p><em>What’re you doing with your day off? </em>Kuroo has texted.</p><p><em>Nothing, it looks like. </em>Kenma sends. <em>I have a cold. </em></p><p>He doesn’t get a response. Kenma places the phone back down and snuggles deeper into his covers, thinking he would maybe sleep this off. Not even five minutes later, his eyes fly open with a rap that comes on his door.</p><p>“Yo.” Kuroo grins real casually at him through the open door, though his nose and cheeks are red from the biting cold and he looks breathless from having had to trudge through a block of knee-deep snow. He lifts up a lunchbox. “I brought you some soup.”  </p><p>Kenma groans and hides deeper within the covers. Kuroo comes in anyway, to coax him out with a lot of scolding, prodding and pushing. All this combined with the amazing smell of the chicken soup thaws him out, and he succumbs to Kuroo’s demands.</p><p>Much later, the two of them sit huddled together within the covers on Kenma’s bed, playing Mortal Kombat on Kenma’s console. Kuroo’s had enough practice with it now that he’s actually able to beat Kenma once or twice, but only if Kenma picks one of his weaker characters. Kuroo is hopeless against his Noob Saibot no matter how hard he tries.</p><p>“God damn it!” Kuroo howls after suffering yet another Fatality. He grips the joystick with more determination. “Again, please.”</p><p>Kenma looks at him, and then at the clock on his bedside. 14:30. This deep into winter, it’ll be dark soon.</p><p>“The team’s gone sledding.” Kenma croaks out in his hoarse voice, sniffling pitifully. “You sure you don’t want to join them?”</p><p>“What, without beating your Noob?” Kuroo scoffs, pointedly digging himself deeper into Kenma’s bed. Their knees and elbows brush against one another, and Kenma resists the urge to lean into the very tempting heat emanating from Kuroo’s body. Stupid blizzard. “There’s no way.”</p><p>“We’re going to be here forever, then.” Kenma jibes, his mouth twitching with humor. “No offense, Kuro, but you kind of suck.”</p><p>“Hey!” Kuroo fights back a smile, and feigns offense. He knows as well as Kenma does that he has no hope when it comes to gaming, despite the latter’s best efforts. It’s probably for the best. It wouldn’t be fair if Kuroo were completely perfect. “I do not <em>suck.</em>”</p><p>“Do too.”</p><p>“Do not.”</p><p>“Do too.” Kenma pauses, and then adds with a quiet spitefulness: “Remember when you tried to play Dark Souls 3? That was fun.”</p><p>The recollection actually has Kuroo flushing in mortified embarrassment. “H-Hey, we agreed not to talk about that!” He grins though. “How was I to know the stupid statue was going to attack?”</p><p>Kenma shrugs, but his lips keep twitching with restrained laughter. “Looked plenty obvious to me.”</p><p>“Kenma!” As if Kenma had blasphemed. “Are you really laughing at me?”</p><p>Kuroo reaches out to tap Kenma’s chin with his fingertips, causing him to look away from the screen and up at Kuroo. Kuroo’s outraged expression proves to be too much even for the ever stoic Kenma, and he snorts out a laugh. Kuroo chortles back, but his hand remains on Kenma’s face, fingers coming up to rest gently against his cheek and leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Kuroo’s expression deepens into something Kenma can’t recognize immediately.</p><p>Kenma’s breath catches in his throat.</p><p>Kuroo clears his throat, and returns his eyes to the screen. His fingers brush against the buttons of the joystick aimlessly. Kenma exhales deeply and lowers his eyes to the square of plain blue bedsheet available between his crossed legs, wondering why his heart is racing like it would after doing ten laps around the court.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>His second gift turns out to be the new Final Fantasy game he’d yearned for. Kenma’s eyes light up in elation when he sees the game cover, and then narrows in confusion upon seeing the pot of small lilac flowers by its side. Wildflowers, by the looks of it.</p><p>Well, alright. The flowers are getting kind of strange, but what’s the harm, right?</p><p>He eyes the game happily. The flowers aren’t doing any harm. From somewhere behind him in the locker room, Yaku whoops happily about the navigation kit Kenma had gotten him, so that’s all really nice as well.</p><p>He and Kuroo walk home together after practice as usual. The snow lies thickly on the ground after the blizzard earlier that week, but the sun is out and shining, illuminating the landscape in its bright, sparkly shine. Kenma looks down at the pot of flowers he carries in his hands.</p><p>Kuroo notices. “Can I take a look at that?”</p><p>When Kenma hands it to him all too eagerly, Kuroo brings the pot up to his face and takes a big inhale. “Strange choice, don’t you think?” He comments. “Do you recognize what they are?”</p><p>Kenma frowns. “Beats me.” Somewhat suspiciously, he asks. “Do you?”</p><p>Kuroo shrugs, then his eyes light up in inspiration. “Say, didn’t your mother mention she was into flower language?”</p><p>Kenma blinks. Had she? “Wasn’t that like three years ago?”</p><p>Kuroo tilts his head thoughtfully. When he exhales, his breath comes out in a puff of white. “It can’t hurt to ask her, right?”</p><p>Kenma wonders about that. It probably wouldn’t, but at the same time he just can’t imagine himself walking up to either of his parents and striking up a tête-à-tête about flowers. Their conversations hardly ever extend beyond the customary <em>how was school </em>and <em>what’s for dinner</em>.</p><p>Nope, he decides immediately. There’s no way he’s ever going to do something that ridiculous.</p><p>They walk in silence for a moment, and Kenma realizes Kuroo has no intention of returning the pot back to him any time soon. He sighs. Probably his mother-hen tendencies coming into play again. No doubt he must have noticed Kenma was finding it cumbersome to carry it and walk on the slippery sidewalk at the same time.</p><p>“What was your present?” Kenma asks softly.</p><p>“Oh yeah, that.” Kuroo chuckles. “A set of hair products I’d been looking into to try and tame my unrestrainable hair. Maybe I can finally look like a human being once in a while.”</p><p>Are you serious, Kenma thinks. Unable to resist himself, he says. “Products won’t do any good.” He huffs, irate at even the mere idea of Kuroo thinking it would be helpful in the slightest. “It’s your horrible sleeping posture that’s the issue.”</p><p>“Is not.” Kuroo refutes obstinately at once.</p><p>“Is too.” Kenma shoots back resolutely. “I’ve seen you. Your pillows are always pressed against your ears and your butt is always in the air.”</p><p>“That is a fat lie.” Kuroo fights back a grin as he turns to Kenma. “My butt is <em>not </em>in the air.”</p><p>“Sure, whatever.” But Kenma smiles too. “I’ll just have to take a picture next time to prove it.”</p><p>The rest of the way home is spent with Kuroo trying to talk him out of this ridiculous suggestion, but Kenma keeps stumbling over the fact—with an uncontrollable twinge of irritation—that he’d been wrong about another one of Kuroo’s prospective present ideas yet again.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>The setting is quite ordinary. There’s a locker room and a crowd of boisterous teenagers riding on their post-game high from their victory against the practice match with Fukurodani, competing for a spot in the showers. Enter Haiba Lev. He has a bottle of soap in his hands, dangerously aimed towards his upperclassmen. He brandishes it like a weapon, and his teammates scowl back at him in infuriation. However, nobody is able to do anything to rectify the situation before a grin breaks out on Lev’s face and his fingers press down evilly on the plastic of the bottle.</p><p>A stream of bubbles and liquid soap whooshes out, shooting across the locker room, splattering on the floor and even on the far wall. This combined with the water streaming aggressively from the surrounding showers inevitably results in Lev’s upperclassmen to lose their footing, thereby making them crash into one another and onto the floor in several messy heaps. And <em>this</em>, in turn, spawns a crowd of vengeful, angry, and <em>very </em>soapy teenagers, each armed with similar soap bottles of their own. </p><p>In short—chaos.</p><p>Kenma, however, is pleasantly excluded from this mess, as he’d smartly chosen to wait out a spot for the shower rather than brave the elements and fight for the survival of the fittest. He sits on a bench outside the shower area with his earphones in, and the music from the game he’s playing on his PSP blares loudly in his ears. He sits with a towel wrapped around his midsection, and is ready to enter the shower area at a moment’s notice.</p><p>Geez, he thinks. What the hell is taking them so long?</p><p>About half an hour passes before the victorious upperclassmen finally file out in clean but various states of disrepair, one of them—a very grumpy Yaku who’d taken the brunt of the sudsy attack—actually dragging the incriminated Lev by his ear. Kenma shoots them a disconcerted glance, quickly saves the game and puts the device back in his bag, excited for his long-awaited shower.</p><p>Finally, he sighs to himself.</p><p>Unaware of the fact that everything is still soapy as <em>heck</em>, Kenma enters obliviously and tiredly. He’s aching from the match they’d played that day, and he can’t <em>wait</em> to finally give his poor muscles some relief.</p><p>He realizes something is wrong when his heel slips on the tiles. His eyes widen, but he’s unable to do anything other than emanate a startled yell as he rushes forward comically, his heel the only buffer between his body and the soapy floor as he slides at lightning speed across the tiles until he painfully and ungracefully crashes into something warm and strong and wet that is <em>definitely not the wall</em>—</p><p>Whatever it is reaches out and hooks an arm around him, preventing him from falling onto the floor and causing possible injury. As he’s trying to steady himself, a familiar voice breaks the silence.</p><p>“Whoa, slow down.” Kuroo’s half-laughing, half-scolding voice reaches his ears. “You might hurt yourself.”</p><p>Kenma looks up at in alarm. He jerks back in shock, because <em>what the hell </em>they’re both in their underwear and Kuroo’s strong, warm arm is around his back, sending the strangest of sensations rushing up his spine and tingling all across his scalp. Unfortunately, he’d completely forgetten about the slippery floor.</p><p>Kenma yelps and grabs Kuroo in a misguided attempt to maintain his balance, but Kuroo, startled by the sudden movement, loses his footing as well and the both of them crash one atop the other onto the tiles in a soapy, haphazardly heap.</p><p>Kuroo’s eyes are wide with panic only a few inches away from his own. His warm, nice-looking lips are scarily close to him—so close that he can tilt his head and be rid of that infinitesimal space. Butterflies rage and twitter in his abdomen. Uh-oh. Kenma thinks in his head, very loudly and very repetitively. There’s actually very little separating them, once he thinks about it, and he doesn’t think he’s ever been <em>this </em>close to him and oh my god, why isn’t Kuroo getting off of him?</p><p>Of course he’s complaining, even if the proximity is surprisingly nice. Or at least, it would be, if Kenma had been the least bit prepared for it, because—okay, he’ll admit it. Kuroo is gorgeous. Like, <em>stupid </em>gorgeous. And he always smells really nice and clean. And his body is strong and warm against Kenma’s exposed stomach. Which is pressing against Kuroo’s quite intimately.</p><p>Has it been mentioned that they’re both only wearing underwear?</p><p>Kenma swallows down a dangerous gulp.</p><p>“Kenma,” Kuroo interrupts his thoughts in a low voice that sends vibrations through his body and makes the back of his neck prickle. He clears his throat, and his lips lift up, into its usual Cheshire cat grin. Kenma’s cheeks flood with heat.</p><p>“You’re digging your nails into my arms.” Kuroo teases, sounding more like his usual self. “I can’t move.”</p><p>Kenma’s cheeks flush deeper in color once he realizes that the reason behind Kuroo’s immobility is—indeed—the fact that he is clenching onto those arms for dear life. He very pointedly averts his line of sight somewhere to the wall on his left, and slacks his stiff fingers very deliberately.</p><p>Kuroo lifts off of his body somewhat clumsily, and Kenma immediately adjusts his disorganized towel to hide his boxers, flushing to the roots of his dyed hair. Uh-oh, indeed.</p><p>“The floor was slippery.” He forces out. “I didn’t know… sorry.”</p><p>This last part he mutters while bringing his knees up to hide his face, because he is still completely and utterly mortified. Stupid teenagers and stupid teenage hormones.</p><p>“H-Hey, no worries.” He wonders if he’s imagining it, but Kuroo’s voice sounds pretty tight. Like he’s having difficulties breathing as well. “Lev was being an idiot, and the other guys thought it’d be amusing to teach him a lesson, and—yeah, well, long story short, they had a soap war and you’re just the unlucky victim of the aftereffects…”</p><p>Kenma lifts his head ever so slightly, just enough to glare at the flustered and rambling Kuroo from above the caps of his knees. The older boy’s voice trails off, and he raises an eyebrow. “What? Why’re you looking at me like that?”</p><p>Kenma dips his head back in between his knees, mostly to hide the blush that rose to his cheeks again—no doubt because of his uncooperative hormones.</p><p>“Stupid Kuro,” He mumbles. “You’re talking too much.”</p><p>“Oh… yeah, that’s right. You, uh, need a shower.” Kenma wants to die. He really does. “Ah”—Kuroo clears his throat—“let me just rinse off.”</p><p>Kenma curls into himself further, grumbling in exasperation. Kuroo shuffles about underneath the shower for a few more minutes before the water cuts off and—with nothing but a soft pat on the top of his head to let him know he’s leaving—Kuroo exits the shower area, leaving Kenma in his flustered solitude by himself.</p><p>He waits a few more moments before daring to stand up. His knees are still shaking as he reaches the showerhead and turns the tap. When the cool water strikes his heated skin, Kenma places a hand on his chest and exhales deeply and heavily, hoping his racing heart would steady its pace soon so that he could calm down.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Hey, can I come talk? </em>
</p><p>Kenma glares at his phone. What could Kuroo possibly have to say to him to rectify his near-death mortification?</p><p><em>No. </em>Kenma texts back.</p><p>
  <em>Not even for a little bit? </em>
</p><p><em>Absolutely not. </em>He hesitates for a moment, then adds. <em>But if you kill Lev tomorrow then I’ll consider it. </em></p><p><em>I’ll make him run laps. </em>Kuroo promises. <em>And practice a hundred receives. And put Yaku to oversee it all and. </em></p><p>Kenma thinks about it. It does make him feel a little bit better.</p><p>
  <em>So can I come? </em>
</p><p>Kenma sighs. It couldn’t possibly get any worse, right?</p><p>(Wrong.)</p><p>
  <em>Fine. </em>
</p><p>Kenma boots open his PSP and aimlessly scrolls through his game achievements, trying to pretend he isn’t nervous. Which is a ridiculous thought. Because he has nothing to be nervous about. This is literally just Kuroo we’re talking about. And anyway, they’ve seen each other shirtless before. Why is this time any different?</p><p><em>Kenma, </em>Kuroo had said in a breathy voice, and Kenma forces him out of his head. Good thing too, because the real Kuroo would be here any minute.</p><p>A couple of raps come on his door. Kuroo lets himself in like usual, but there’s some concern in his eyes as he comes in. The memory of that morning barrels back into Kenma’s mind in sharp relief, and he quickly returns his eyes back to the device in his hands to suppress the resulting heat that flickers in his abdomen.</p><p>Kuroo takes a seat by him on the bed.</p><p>“So.” He starts awkwardly. “The soap war this morning was not a good idea, then?”</p><p>Kenma rolls his eyes, and doesn’t dignify this silly comment with a response.</p><p>“Okay, hey,” Kuroo reaches over to place a hesitant hand on his shoulder. Kenma stiffens at the contact and the ensuing heat that rushes into his face (no doubt embarrassment, he tells himself), but doesn’t protest. “I just wanted to make sure things were cool between us.”</p><p>“Why wouldn’t it be?” Kenma mumbles out with some difficulty.</p><p>Kuroo regards him silently. “You’re right.” He says with a softness in his voice that Kenma hasn’t expected. Kenma looks up at him curiously and is startled to find a strange tightness in his expression. But it disappears before he could make a comment, and suddenly Kuroo is grinning down at him again.</p><p>“I mean, we’re best friends, right?”</p><p>Kenma frowns, still wondering about that weird look on his face. “Sure.” He agrees quietly.</p><p>After some more while of meaningless conversation and mindless meandering about the upcoming practices, Kuroo at last departs his room. Kenma watches him leave silently, noting the stiff, artificial quality to the smile he offers as he closes the door behind him. He stays in his spot for a long while, unmoving, after Kuroo has left.</p><p>A long time later, Kenma curls up in his bed, hugging his pillow tightly to the unfamiliar ache in his chest. He wonders why he is strangely unhappy with the outcome of the conversation and the clumsiness of the inelegant excuse they’d acquiesced between them concerning the events of that morning.</p><p>
  <em>Best friends. </em>
</p><p>Kenma frowns at that. Until today, he’d never had reason to be unhappy with that description of him and Kuroo.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>His next flower is a coral rose. He’s used to them, even grown to expect them by now, and ignores it in favor of the more exciting present he receives: an action figure of his favorite Final Fantasy character Cloud Strife.</p><p>On his walk back home, he mentally rearranges the items strewn haphazardly on his study desk to make space for this new trophy. The coral rose poking out of his bag looks lovely in the soft sheen of the wintry afternoon sun. It’s still cold, almost painfully so, but at least it isn’t snowing anymore. The streets are still icy due to the constantly subzero temperatures, and the snow from last week isn’t anywhere close to melting, but all in all it hasn’t been so bad. Kenma’s gotten a great haul from the secret Santa event so far, and it’s been nicer than he would admit even to himself to see how much Yaku was enjoying the gifts Kenma gets him. He’d been really happy about the new hiking shoes he’d gotten today, too.</p><p>It really has been a nice winter, hasn’t it?</p><p>He flickers his eyes to Kuroo. For the most part, anyway.</p><p>“What did you get this time?” He asks, and it comes out sounding more like a grumpy complaint than a genuine question.</p><p>“A study lamp.” Kuroo responds cheerfully. “I’ve been saying that I broke my old one, so this was a really, really thoughtful present. For real, my secret Santa is just great.”</p><p>Alright, this is just getting insulting at this point. Kenma scowls down at the icy pavement beneath his shoes. He doesn’t even bother pointing out what Kuroo had said about his sleep cycle being better now. Kenma has no right commenting on what’s right or wrong for Kuroo when he clearly has no idea on what Kuroo would appreciate, like or dislike at all. It’s ridiculous.</p><p>Out of the corner of his eye, Kuroo looks at him curiously at his lack of a rebuttal, but Kenma hardly notices. They walk home the rest of the way in silence, with Kenma in a very foul mood.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>Kenma clicks away aimlessly on the browser of Kuroo’s computer under the melody of the shower running in the background from within the attached bathroom in Kuroo’s room. Outside, it’s begun to snow softly again, but the radiator within Kuroo’s room is responsibly turned on and hence Kenma is comfortably warm even in the old gym shorts and cotton shirt he prefers to wear as nightclothes.</p><p>Kuroo’s parents are out of town visiting family, so he’d decided to sleep over to keep him company in the empty house because Kuroo’s a big coward and is still afraid of ghosts for some incomprehensible reason.</p><p>Kenma sighs. Bokuto in all his peril is a harmless friend, but the supernatural is some inconceivable threat? Sometimes it’s so difficult to understand the workings of Kuroo’s brain.</p><p>He taps on the desk somewhat restlessly. Perhaps some part of him is still worked up over the—ahem—soap war incident that occurred last week and—alright, he’ll admit it. He’s perhaps a little nervous about sleeping over at Kuroo’s after the strange feelings that had stirred in his gut afterwards. He doesn’t pretend to understand them entirely, but he’s not entirely stupid. There is definitely a disagreeable portion of his mind that would definitely not object to seeing Kuroo without a shirt again, but that’s only to be expected, right? Kuroo is unreasonably attractive, after all.</p><p>Long, lithe legs with muscles that coil and uncoil as he jumps up to confidently block an attacking spike. The smile that cuts across his face like the slash of a sword, blinding him and everyone else in the vicinity in its glow. His big, pretty hands that are always reaching out to brush pieces of hair away from Kenma’s face, or straighten bits of his skewed clothing, or—</p><p>Kenma shakes his head, determined to get the thoughts out of his brain. Unreasonably attractive, indeed.</p><p>Mostly as a tool to distract himself from the mystique of Kuroo’s decidedly irresistible appearance, he types into the search bar an entry about the meaning of a sunflower. On the page of results that come up is a link that’s already been opened once.</p><p>Kenma narrows his eyes suspiciously. That’s awfully strange. But perhaps that’s just Kuroo’s curious nature coming into play. He probably would’ve looked it up too if Kuroo had been receiving strange flowers from a secret admirer each week.</p><p>The meaning of gifting a sunflower turns out to represent warmth, which is an okay reason, he guesses. It’s winter, after all, and a bitterly cold one at that. Some more warmth would do anyone good.</p><p>Curiously, he googles the meaning of a coral rose. As expected, the topmost link has been opened, and the article it leads to reveals—quite embarrassingly—that a coral rose is supposed to symbolize lust and desire. Which… okay. It’s equal parts flattering and mortifying that someone could ever look at him like that, much less someone on the Nekoma team, and he suddenly entertains the idea of packing his bags and leaving Japan forever just so that he wouldn’t have to figure out which one of those idiots it was that might’ve been looking at him in that kind of light.</p><p>It’s a good fantasy, even if it doesn’t last him that long.</p><p>It’s even more embarrassing that Kuroo has been googling all this, too, and even more humiliating to know that he’s kept this from Kenma all this time. Which doesn’t make sense, because it sounds <em>just </em>like something Kuroo would do to mercilessly tease him about getting flowers that symbolize <em>lust </em>of all the ridiculous things in this world.</p><p>Suddenly, his eye catches on a recommended article, on which the accompanying image illustrates the flower he’d failed to recognize from his second gift. The lilac flower pot he’d gotten that day is apparently something called a Bergenia plant, and it’s supposed to represent good health and protection from illness. Which is alright, too, by itself. But combined with the coral rose, it’s <em>really </em>weird that one of his teammates would go so far as to worry about—</p><p>Quite suddenly, he realizes what he ought to have at once.</p><p>The sunflower to represent warmth. A memory flashes into his brain. Kuroo’s very nice, very warm hands, had flittered around his hair to tighten a scarf around his neck. <em>“You’re cold?” </em> He’d asked offhandedly. Kenma’s eyes widen in realization.</p><p>The Bergenia plant to symbolize good health. None of his other teammates had even <em>known </em>that he’d fallen ill that week. Except for Kuroo, who’d waded through the aftermath of a blizzard to come feed him soup with a lighthearted smile, and stayed with him all throughout the day to keep him company. His heart swells with emotion.</p><p>And the coral rose. <em>Lust. </em>After the incident in the locker room, when they’d both been a hair’s breadth away from kissing one another, and Kenma had felt a tidal wave of desire overcome him like a tempestuous storm, overtaking all his emotion and rationality in one fell sweep. His fingers tremble against the keyboard, and he clenches them to keep them from shaking. So Kuroo had wanted him as badly, too.</p><p><em>“Best friends,” </em>he’d said, with a shuttered, half-hearted smile.</p><p>Kenma closes the browser nervously and rises to sit on Kuroo’s bed, which is an awful idea because it smells just like him and makes Kenma feels even worse. He’s greeted with the irrational desire to  barrel into the shower and enclose Kuroo within his arms at once, but it’s subdued under the wave of ungratefulness that forces into him simultaneously. So Kuroo had gotten him all those nice gifts that he’d really wanted, when Kenma had been unable to think of a single good one to give him… <em>and </em>not to mention that it turned out that all the ideas he’d initially dismissed turned out to be presents that Kuroo had really and truly wanted.</p><p>God. He’s such a useless jerk.</p><p>He’s considering the idea of running away from the house before Kuroo finishes his shower when suddenly he spots the study lamp Kuroo had gotten sitting idly atop his cupboard, clearly unused since he’d gotten it. Kenma’s eyes fly to Kuroo’s dresser. The hair product box has been opened and meticulously used, but Kuroo’s uncontrollable bedhead hasn’t changed one bit. When he gets up from his position on the bed to go open Kuroo’s cupboard, there are like forty different gym shorts neatly folded in piles within. Most of them probably have never seen the light of day.</p><p>Conflicted and confused in the turmoil of the emotions that overcome him, he spends the rest of the sleepover far too distracted to see how Kuroo stares at him longingly all through the night.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>On the day of the big reveal, Kenma is so nervous that he considers skipping the whole thing entirely. Because now he’s going to have to face Kuroo and pretend to be surprised when really he’d been snooping around and had already discovered the truth. But he sucks up his cowardice and trudges through the ever-growing snow to the café they’d been in on that fateful day they’d orchestrated this whole accursed thing, perhaps driven by some self-loathing instinct that he’s going to have to face the music sometime anyway.</p><p>He avoids Kuroo like the plague when he first arrives, deciding to enjoy the pleasurable part of the evening and seek out Yaku instead. He hands his surprised upperclassman the final gift—an expert’s guide to hiking—that Yaku receives from him with genuine elation on his face.</p><p>“Wow!” He exclaims, visibly touched. “Thank you! Kenma, I didn’t even expect it could be you.”</p><p>“You’re welcome.” Kenma responds dully.</p><p>“Really, thank you so much for all of it. I genuinely, genuinely really liked everything you got me.”</p><p>After the excited Yaku departs, he watches as a cheerful Inuoka hands Kuroo a notebook that’s much nicer than the one Kenma had gotten him for his birthday this year, and the captain responds to him with a great big grin and profuse gratitude that utterly concealed the fact that Kuroo hadn’t had much use for any of the gifts he’d gotten.</p><p>Kenma scowls. He tromps through the darkly-tinted glass doors and onto the deserted balcony outside, feeling an inexplicable urge to slam the doors closed on his way out. He exhales a great, exasperated sigh that emanates from his lips in a cloud of smoke as he leans over the balcony and looks out onto the quiet, snow-cloaked street below. All the windows of the apartments there are alit in hundreds of fairy lights that twinkle like a thousand stars against the darkness of the wintry night and the lights of downtown Tokyo, shimmering far, far away in the distance.</p><p>Kenma rests against the railing, listening to the tune of the cheesy old English song playing from inside the café, and watches the snow fall.  </p><p>Several agonizing minutes later, the doors onto the balcony open slightly to admit a handsome Kuroo onto the deck. He’s dressed in his buttoned-up black overcoat again, though the collar is devoid from his customary scarf due to the red cloth in question presently being wrapped around Kenma’s neck instead. Kenma’s eyes are trained on the snowflakes that flutter down around them as Kuroo walks up to him, holding within his hands a red rose and what looks like a decadent, cutely packed home-baked slice of apple pie.</p><p>Kenma’s favorite.</p><p>“Merry Christmas, Kenma.” Kuroo says gently. Kenma plucks the rose from his hands, having expected another flower. A strange sense of wonder fills him as he remembers the many webpages he’d scoured through during his investigation into the flowers at Kuroo’s place.</p><p>In each and every one of them, the meaning of a red rose had been indisputable: everlasting love.</p><p>Kenma looks at it, feeling a familiar fluttering in his chest that he finally recognizes for what it was. Butterflies. Because he’s had feelings for Kuroo all this time.</p><p>“I expected <em>some </em>sort of surprise.” Kuroo jokes somewhat nervously.</p><p>“You always knew me best.” Kenma mumbles, tucking a lock of hair behind his ear. He’s nervous too, he’s not going to lie. “I think I’ve kind of known all along that it was you.”</p><p>Kuroo considers that. After a moment, he turns to lean against the railing as well, so that they’re both side-by-side facing the tinted glass doors of the balcony. Kenma leans against the warmth emanating from Kuroo’s side, almost instinctively. His fingers tighten around the stem of the rose. Kuroo is in love with him, and he always has been.</p><p>His heart does a somersault. Best friends, and in love. That definition of their relationship satisfies him far more than it should.</p><p>“If I’d been your secret Santa,” Kenma begins suddenly, with a strange sort of defiance to his voice. “I’d have gotten you tickets to FC Tokyo’s match next month as your first gift.” For this was Kuroo’s favorite pro league team.</p><p>Kuroo starts, surprised, and Kenma just <em>knows </em>he would have really liked that gift. “Yeah?” He asks quietly, but with the beginnings of a smile on his face. Kenma presses on.</p><p>“And for the second gift I’d have gotten you a coupon to eat at that stupid restaurant that sells the grilled mackerel that you like so much.” He pouts. “And for the third I’d have gotten you a scarf, seeing as you’re always giving your favorite ones to me.”</p><p>Kuroo looks a bit punch-drunk at this stream of revelations, and can’t help but emanate nothing but a soft <em>Oh </em>that escapes his lips. He turns to look at Kenma with a somewhat shuttered smile. Kenma tilts his head to see him, see the longing in his hazel-flecked eyes, the warmth hidden behind the mischievous grin, and marvels how he has failed to see any of it before.</p><p>“And for the last?”</p><p>Kenma hesitates only for a second. Then quite suddenly, he reaches up to grab Kuroo by the collars of his overcoat and pulls him down for a kiss. Kuroo exhales in surprise against his lips, sending shivers up Kenma’s spine. Almost immediately, Kuroo melts into the kiss, lips moving fervently against Kenma’s and his warm, big hands coming up to clasp the sides of Kenma’s face in ardent need.</p><p>As they pull away, Kuroo’s eyes are wide with realization. “Kenma, you…?”</p><p>Kenma hides his face in Kuroo’s chest, the flare of confidence gone only to be replaced by embarrassment and mortification at his own boldness. He inhales deeply, taking in Kuroo’s comforting, familiar scent, and relishes the thought that this wonderful, thoughtful, ridiculous man is his—all his.</p><p>“Merry Christmas, Kuro.” He mumbles against the corduroy. Kuroo pauses only briefly before bringing up a hand to bury itself within Kenma’s hair. His other hand wraps around him tightly, pulling him closer into his warmth.</p><p>They stay this way together for the longest time. The music, laughter and celebration of Christmas Eve encloses them like a cloak, warming not just their body but their heart and soul, filling it with a warm melody that’s everlasting and sweet. Overhead, the snow flutters down as powdery illusions of light that flicker under the illuminations from the lively city. Somewhere deep within the café, an old, reminiscent voice croons an English love song that reaches as a muted hum to Kenma’s ears.</p><p>
  <em>“Take my hand, take my whole life too. For I can’t help, falling in love with you.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Fin</em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>and now I really, really want it to be christmas, damn it. this was supposed to come out in December but I’ve only just been able to finish it. I hoped you guys enjoyed reading this fluff fest as much as I liked writing it, gahahaha. also I literally know nothing about flower language, this is all just from googling so apologies if anything is inaccurate!! (I mean AFAIK the Bergenia plant is a deadly poison fatal to humankind. even if it is, for the sake of romance and all that’s Christmassy, let us imagine that it isn’t…) </p><p>thanks for reading!!!! and--even though its literally february--merry christmas!</p><p>PS: there is art for this fic!!!! if ur interested u can find it <a href="https://aizosku-art.tumblr.com/post/643315495490240512/accompanying-art-for-merrily-merrily-merrily-on">here</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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